The Next Generation
by A.Steele
Summary: The time of Witch has passed, and now it is time for the next generation to establish themselves... Please R&R, rating may go up.


Hello everyone

**Hello everyone! I wanted to write a Black Jewels story cause I don't think there's nearly enough. So, as you'll probably be able to guess, this is the next generation of characters; Jaenelle and Daemon's son, Lucivar and Marian's son, Kalush and Aaron's daughter, etc. You'll probably be able to make the connections throughout. Just so you know, the main character, Fennine, is my own, and that any other characters with familiar names aren't the same person as in the actual books. The entire Court of Witch, including Jaenelle herself, is dead (sob!!). I just recycled a few obscure names when I started having issues coming up with some. Please enjoy and review!! Reviews make updates come faster!!**

**CHAPTER ONE**

**Dharo**

Fennine released a sigh of relief as the attention of the Court wandered to dancing and the food along the chamber walls instead of her. Her mother, the current Queen, had been preparing her for her formal introduction for almost three weeks, and it was a relief to finally have it off her chest. Looking around at the faces in the crowd, Fennine observed the males and witches that made up the Dharo Court.

The large group of giggling women surrounding Celeste's large, ornately carved, jewel-studded throne were the females of the First Circle. Many of them range from the Opal Jewel to Sapphire, just beneath her mother's own Red Jewel. While they were strong, at least, Fennine felt they were a silly lot, more concerned with their public appearances than their people.

The Dharo Court had become famous, or perhaps infamous, for their material taste.

And Dharo suffered for it. People who could not keep up with the Court's fashions lost their business, while the need for even the simplest objects from the village wavered as Fennine's mother imported all the Court's goods, not willing to suffer the village bread long enough to allow the bakers time to get back on their feet and produce products of a finer quality. The only business that had survived was that of carpet weaving. The Territory had been able to maintain their reputation as the Realms' best weavers.

The smaller group of cowed-looking males by the liquor bottles were the males of the First and Second Circle. Each of them held a weary, defeated look that made Fennine give an internal wince. Their very natures had been suppressed as the witches they served defied the Blood laws, trying to make their males less dependent by telling them that the best way to serve was to be silent and unattached. They were completely blind to the relationship that these men needed with their Queen. Now the males were so used to the neglect, so distant from their positions, that they would never be able to completely devote themselves.

The rest of the Court milled freely about the room, exchanging gossip, happy to have wine to drink and an eager ear to talk to. Fennine circled aimlessly around the edges of the room, taking mental notes of the guests. The Lord standing by the far wall had recently broken off an affair he'd been having, his wife was guarding him particularly closely... the witch wearing her hair in elegant curls had just started her moonsblood. You could tell because of the way her husband was snarling at the nearest males...

It was as she was making her third circuit around the crowd that Fennine's mother detached herself from her coven and caught her daughter by the arm.

"Daaarling," she drawled, leading Fennine into the Steward's office, now empty and dark. Using Craft, Fennine lit the candles along the walls before one of them tripped and broke their neck. Her mother shut the door and settled herself in the high-backed chair behind the desk, gesturing for Fennine to sit across from her. As Fennine did so, her mother drew out a sheet of paper and passed it over the desk to her, an indulgent smile plastered in place.

Fennine stared at the list of men and wanted to cry. All of them she had met at past parties, and all of them had treated her the same. Their voices dripping honey when they offered her a drink. Their faces holding a smug expression when they spoke of the land they owned. Their hands always "accidentally" brushing her butt and hips, arms somehow twisting their way around her waist.

Fennine was a medium-height witch with light, fair skin and and dark chestnut brown hair. She stood out from the Dharo villagers because of her pale skin, so she drew peoples' attention. When they found out she was one of the Hundred Families, they quickly began sidling up to her in hopes of developing a useful connection.

It also didn't hurt that she was a Queen, not yet come of age. Her mother was the current Queen of Dharo, but the moment Fennine came of age, she planned to step down. It was too much responsibility for her, and she leapt at the chance of shifting it to her daughter. Fennine, while not minding in the least at being Queen, was more worried about forming her Court. There weren't many as many strong, helpful males in Dharo that could form a full court. Instead, Fennine planned to travel before coming of age in the hopes of finding someone, anyone, to replace the males that she was forced to rub shoulders with. They were ambitious fools who thought that by proving they could undo her bodice with one hand that they were fit to rule a Territory.

And she was expected to play her part in it, because that's what aristo ladies did. But that didn't make it any less disgusting when the aristo males had had one too many 'gravediggers' and began whispering revolting suggestions of how she could spend her evenings. Something that had always angered her, because even though she was a Queen, these men wouldn't think twice about forcing her if she tried to reply to them in any way other that what they wanted.

"Well darling, what do you think? We should be able to find you a decent aristo husband out of those males," Celeste Danaan said to her daughter. Celeste's goal in life was to be rich and well known. Her Red Jewels gave her some leverage, but it was her social ties that had helped her achieve her goals. She had developed useful, if not strong, connections with many of the Territory Queens, being one herself, and was well known among the Dark Counsel, and therefor very respected. It had become an obsession of hers to marry of her daughters to a rich, and well connected, husband. It had become Fennine's stubborn resolution to marry a male of _her_ choosing. But her mother was making that goal more and more difficult to achieve, and it didn't help that her sister, Lavender, who wore the Green Jewel, had already been married of to some wishy-washy aristo Lord. Now Celeste was focusing all her attentions on Fennine.

"Mother, none of these men seem like husband material. Maybe we should wait for me to come of age before I choose a husband," she suggested, knowing it wouldn't do any good.

"But, Fennine, by then they'll all be married. We need to secure a good male while he's ripe. Right now, they've all just gained their lands and are now receiving the pay that comes with it. They're cocky and are there for easy to control, which makes all of the difference."

Fennine winced. Didn't these people see where their attitude was leading them? It wouldn't be long before Kaeleer became the mirror image of Terreille. Her mother loved feeling powerful, which was why so much of their money was spent on household servants, who they had to have a lot of considering the size of their house.

Danaan Mansion was the pride of Riada, with its famous gardens, spotless appearance, and notable size, it was very well known. And since Celeste was paranoid about thieves, it was patrolled by guards day and night.

Fennine looked around in distaste at the surroundings. The room they were sitting in, the drawing room, was filled with the typical aristo decor. Elaborate wall paper, expensive furniture, it was all there, the reasons she absolutely hated this house. Everything was too structured, too overdone. Even the gardens, beautiful as they were, had a synthetic feel about them. It was suffocating.

"Mother, I really don't care about their income. Besides, none of these men were interested in me, just the position I'll be receiving soon," said Fennine stiffly. "If they marry me now, who knows what new laws and rules they could push through before I come of age. Imagine what they could bring down on the people." Her mother thought for a moment. Celeste had a knack for diving into things without thinking, without considering the repercussion others would face because of her decisions.

"That is irrelevant," she said finally. "the riches we'd receive would be more than suitable to take care of any... issues. Besides, does it _matter_?" Fennine didn't answer, her mother's attitude a painful reminder of what life in Terreille had been like when she was young. Her mother's attitude toward her responsibilities as Queen were starting to have an effect on the people.

"I suppose you're right," Celeste muttered suddenly. "They might do something stupid. Alright, my dear, I'll give you till you come of age. That's two years. If you haven't made a decision by then, I'll have to choose for you." She walked away.

Fennine looked back down at the list. All hope was lost in her opinion. She wouldn't be able to complete the marriage without vomiting. The thought of climbing into bed with one of the Terrillian males her mother had suggested made her gorge rise. Fennine quickly locked the idea away.

Using the excuse that she needed some fresh air, Fennine quickly exited the Steward's office and trekked across the Main Room, down the wide hallway, and, with the help of nearby footmen, through the double doors that were almost twenty feet tall. The second she was outside, Fennine made her way across the front walk to her favorite part of the property; the woods.

In the woods was the natural beauty that came from the excessive life that thrived there. It offered a solitude that couldn't be found anywhere else as the pampered aristos that visited wouldn't be able to bear the 'filth.' Wandering down the familiar path, Fennine treaded quietly to the edge of a small yet deep lake. A tributary on the opposite side, if followed, led to a massive waterfall. Fennine could hear the distant roar.

She walked a few feet into the warm water, from where, if she was careful and used Craft to balance on the water, she could make it to the large rock in the center. Once there, she stripped herself of the heavy skirts that weighed her down, instead using the thick fabric to cushion the rock.

Standing up, she stood on the edge of her perch in only her undershirt and skirt, a gentle breeze blowing through the fabric and playing across her skin. Fennine closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing in and out, releasing her frustration at her mother's attitude toward her homeland, the anger at the way the males' spirits and perception were being mutilated, along with the fear of what would happen when her time before she came of age ran out...

Opening her eyes, Fennine stared down into the dark water in front of her, seeing her reflection in the water interrupting the view of the reflected stars. When she was younger, she had come here, wishing she could just sink into the water without a single ripple, to join the land, to break away from people and their twisted ideals. Now, she wanted to jump in, to make waves, to have _something_ be affected by her.

So she did.

With a sudden urge of adrenaline, or perhaps foolishness, she dived into the water, shooting down a few feet before pulling back up, gasping. Pulling out the decorative clips and bands in her hair, she tossed them on top of the pile of her clothes and swam farther out. Floating on her back, she stared at the stars, letting her body drift.

A peace settled over her as life around her continued. The sounds of the forest grew more constant as she remained stationary in the water. A loud splash, however, soon threw everything into a fit of chaos. Birds flew from the trees, the fish who'd approached her form scattered as she floundered in the attempt to sit up and identify the intruder.

It was as her head broke the surface, that she noticed the more pressing problem. She wasn't in the lake, as she'd assumed. She was floating, swiftly, down the river toward a roar that was growing ever louder: the waterfall. If it had been at any other time, she would have tried to escape the undercurrent, would have at least made a grab for passing trees or rocks. Instead, she let the current pull her until she was only a few feet away from the waterfall.

As she approached the edge, she completely stomped out the distant voice of reason in her head, which was shouting in an angry, desperate voice, "_What the hell are you doing? Girl, STOP!_"

She ignored it, instead getting to her feet in the shallower water, taking a deep breath, and running at the edge. She leapt gracefully off the edge, propelling herself forward by pushing off from the ledge.

It was a long way down. She wrapped a bubble shield around herself when she first started to fall to soften the blow and keep her from drowning. Then she let herself enjoy the wind that whipped her face and the weightlessness of free fall. Her body turned gently as the water rushed up to meet her, and as she looked up past her feet, she was slightly shocked to see a dark, winged shape speeding after her like an arrow from hell. The sudden jolt of hitting the water saved her from having to respond as she allowed herself to fall into unconsciousness.

-oOo-

Son. Of. A. Bitch. Caetar gaped slightly at the unconscious witch he'd propped against a tree on the edge of the lake at the bottom of the waterfall. The woman was insane. He'd seen hear floating towards the waterfall from overhead, had come after her when the current caught, had shouted to her when she'd jumped off the falls.

He studied her as she rolled in her sleep. He doubted she was suicidal. Who shielded themselves when they were trying to die?

Yanking his drenched tunic back over his head, he dropped it on a low-hanging tree branch to dry, cursing under his breath at the ruin of a good pair of boots. He didn't have the money for a new pair, and he doubted Daemonar would be pleased that his hunting bow was splintered. Shit, shit, shit.

He unstrapped the bow and quiver from his back and rested them against the tree before dropping next to the unconscious girl and holding his hands out to the small fire he'd built to keep them both from sickness in the late night air. She shifted in her sleep again, balling up against his side towards the warmth.

How did she even get out here anyways? Judging by her skin tone, she wasn't from around here, and this stretch of land was part of the Danaan estate, so she would have had to walk miles through the woods from the village. Had she been traveling with someone? Maybe she'd been meeting with a lover and gotten lost? It would explain her lack of clothes, he supposed.

Caetar looked back out at the lake, his gaze traveling back up the waterfall and focusing on the rock where she'd jumped. She'd seemed unreal, a ghost, as she floated under him as he flew overhead. He'd been slow to reacted when she'd suddenly leapt over the edge, entranced as she fell gracefully through the air, completely relaxed and at peace. It was as she neared the water that it suddenly hit him in more blunt terms: a girl had just jumped over a waterfall and he was watching her fall to her death.

The cool prick of metal against his throat pulled him from his thoughts. The girl was awake, and had the tip of one of his arrows against his throat. Caetar didn't move, more annoyed than afraid. In her misguided attempt at defending herself, she was leaning uncomfortable against the fragile membrane of his wings.

Using the speed that only an Eyrien possessed, Caetar grabbed the arrow's shaft and twisted, snapping it with one hand and catching the female's wrists with the other. She struggled, of course, sinking her teeth into his hands and attempting to knee him in the gut by using his arms as leverage. He simply let her roll right over him before rolling on top of her to pin her. This had the opposite effect as she began fighting even harder. Caetar felt her gathering power as his Jewels buzzed in response, warning their owner. He shielded himself as she unleashed a bolt of Sapphire, which immediately dispersed when it met his Ebon-gray. She screamed in fear and frustration, striking at him repeatedly while pummeling his inner barriers. It had no effect on him and only served to drain her energy.

"Will you hold still? I'm trying to help," he snarled into her ear. She didn't stop struggling, but she paused long enough for him to shift them to a more comfortable position. He rolled back off her and pinned her back against the tree, wrists in his hands and sitting on her feet. She stared back at him with an intensity that reminded him of a portrait in Daemonar's study.

"Mother Night, woman, what's the matter with you? Or was your head damaged when you fell?" Caetar snapped. Her mouth snapped closed at that.

"You saw me fall over," she finally asked. Her voice was soft, chastened.

"Fall my ass. You jumped off, crazy bitch," he growled, too incencsed to even attempt being polite.

"Who do you think you are, you ass?" she suddenly snapped. "It's none of your business, so shove off! You don't have any say in what I do." Her eyes were flashing angrily, and her Sapphire Jewels hummed somewhere above him. Caetar started to respond, but they both froze at the sound of distantly cracking branches.

Near the top of the waterfall and down at the base were a total of four men. One had a lantern while the others used witchlight. They stumbled around through the dark, and judging by the slurring of their speech, were completely drunk.

"Laaaaaaaaddddyy," called the lantern-carrier, walking down the bank closer to Caetar and his captive. "We know you're heeere soooooooommmewhere! Why don't you come say hello!!" The man next to him laughed, a sound resembling a donkey's bray.

"I'm suuuuuure you'd have more fun with us then back up at that stuffy party! How bout you come entertain us?" They were stumbling nearer to the two of them.

Caetar, holding down the girl's feet with one leg, used to other foot do kick dirt onto the small fire, extinguishing it. Reaching past her, he grabbed his quiver and bow and slung them onto his back. As he pulled back on his damp shirt, he asked

"They're looking for you?" He kept his voice as low as possible. She shrugged helplessly.

"My mother might've noticed I was gone… she could have sent some of the males to find me-" He cut her off before she could finish.

"Well, they're close enough to find you on their own. Believe it or not, I broke some laws saving your ungrateful ass, so I'm leaving before my Queen is on my back about it. It was a pleasure," he said in a mocking voice, giving her a bow. Then he turned and spread his wings.

Just as he was about to take off, a sudden weight hit his back. Calling in his warblade, he caught the attacker under the feet and turned to chop their head off, only to see the incessant girl clutching onto his shirt.

"Don't leave me here with them," she gasped, winded. Her eyes were wide and fearful. "Please," she whispered, her eyes on the light that was nearing their clearing.

"HEY, I FOUND HER!! LANIER, I FOUND H-" the man's shouts were cut short as Caetar silenced him with a bolt of the Ebon-gray. Swearing viciously, he scooped the girl up and launched them both into the sky, wings pumping, the shouting of the men falling behind them.

The girl gave a small squeak, clutching him around the neck in a strangle-hold. Feeling unnecessarily spiteful, Caetar did a few loop-the-loops. It was answered with the girl threatening castration if he turned them upside-down again. He laughed, the feel of the air lightening his mood, and he found that he slightly admired her courage to try clashing with an Ebon-gray Eyrien.

He let her swear for a few more minutes as they glided over the woods until they reached the edge of Dharo. Landing on the rocky cobblestones of a deserted street, he put her back down and frowned.

She glared up at him, shivering, clad only in her under-slip and underwear. Her arms were crossed over her chest, but in the light of a streetlamp, Caetar could glimpse her breasts through the sheer fabric. It clung to her legs, and she shifted from foot-to-foot, trying to keep her bare feet off the ground. Her hair hung limp and damp around her face.

Caetar felt a grin spread over his face and tried to conceal it with words.

"So what's a lost urchin like you doing out in the middle of the woods? In your underwear, no less," he added. He pulled his now-dry tunic off and handed it to her. She took it with a murmured thanks, and pulled it on. It reached almost to her knees, but it was better than nothing.

Caetar pick her back up since she didn't have shoes, and they started slowly down the road towards the main part of the city.

"I wasn't lost. I knew exactly where I was," she grumbled.

"That wasn't the question."

"That was my answer." He glared at her.

"Okay, new question. Who the hell are you that drunken pigs are stumbling through the woods looking for you in the dead of night?" They rounded a corner onto a busier street. Caetar gave staring males a razor-sharp grin as he carried his parcel down the street. She leaned closer to him, avoiding their gazes.

"My mother's pretty important. She probably sent some people to find me when I left the house without telling her." Caetar snorted.

"I guess I can see why if you make a habit of jumping off cliffs."

"I don't make a habit of it. I was just tired of her and her company, so I came outside. I decided to swim, and… I didn't really think after that," she admitted.

"The hell you didn't. Let's considered you train of thought. 'My mother is a pain, so I'm going to run into the woods, swim around in my underwear, and jump off a waterfall because…"

He trailed off as a man ran up to him. A Yellow Jewel hung at his neck, and his blond hair was sweaty.

"Prince… Caetar," he gasped, making a brief attempt at a bow before looking back up. "Prince Dae-" Caetar cut him off.

"At the tavern?" he asked. The man nodded, breathing heavily. Reaching into his pocket, Caetar passed him a silver coin and took off, almost blowing the poor man over.

"Who-" she began, but Caetar interrupted before she could ask.

"Listen girl-"

"Fennine," she corrected.

"Fine, Fennine then, is there somewhere you need me to take you before I go? I need to be somewhere," he said obscurely. She paused for a minute before shaking her head.

"The Riverside Inn would be fine," she said. Caetar nodded, then dipped into a landing. He deposited her in front of the door and gave her one more lookover. She was brushing her dark, windswept hair out of her face, watching him carefully. She really did have lovely eyes.

"Thank you for your help," she told him. "I hope we'll see each other again. I can give you you're shirt back," she said with a weak smile. He nodded, and she leaned over and gave him a brief kiss on the cheek. "Darkness embrace you, Brother," she told him, then turned and walked inside the inn.

Caetar launched back into the night.

Okay, reviews would be appreciated. I already the next, oh say, two chapters mostly written, but I would love to hear your opinions. I still have many more characters to introduce!!


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